Most Faithful Servant
by Mark of the Asphodel
Summary: Non-entry for "The Line" challenge on the fe contest comm.  Faced with a seemingly insoluble problem, MyUnit acts according to her nature.  Her loyalty to Marth demands nothing less.


**Most Faithful Servant**

I do not own _Fire __Emblem_ or any of its characters.

A word of explanation. This is my non-entry for the challenge entitled "The Line" on the fe_contest comm. As a comm mod, I no longer enter the contest, but I really loved the challenge and decided to write down this particular plotbunny when it occurred to me (quite literally in the middle of the night). In this, we see Chris, aka MyUnit, take extreme loyalty to its terribly logical conclusions. This might explain why the so-called Hero of Shadow was omitted from the history books!

Rated T for dark themes and acts.

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><p>The staircase was what tipped her off. Chris attended the king at every great function of state, and she saw the change in the way he would descend the great curving stair in the palace. First he took the stairs with confidence, one light and sure step after another. But in the tenth year of his reign, he began to reach for the bannister of the staircase. Chris saw this increased caution, saw how the unobtrusive glide of his hand upon the bannister became a white-knuckled grip over the course of the winter.<p>

Before, she might have consulted with Katarina, but Katarina had disappeared on her. Chris had an alleged gift for being able to talk to everyone, but there were some things that must not be talked about with just _anyone_, and this change in her lord's behavior was one of them. She noted, with some relief, how the queen appeared more frequently in public with her husband, never leaving him alone. Then, too, Lady Elice drifted back to court, and seemed to mend the distance that had grown up between King Marth and his only sister. Between them, Chris thought, they could handle the situation.

They couldn't. By spring, the effort it took for the king to deal with the staircase was so marked that Chris and Sir Cain arranged for guests to be greeted elsewhere in the state rooms. Chris now counted the pauses he took at the end of the night, when she followed the king and queen back up that accursed staircase. One pause, two pauses... then three, with Queen Caeda helping him along the final flight of steps.

Queen Caeda couldn't carry their king forever. And Lady Elice and her holy staves weren't helping either. Chris thought this over many a night- how odd that Lady Elice had been able to restore life a man burned to cinders back in the War of Shadows, yet couldn't do a thing to stop the illness that was slowly consuming her brother. She thought it over in the night, in the bright of the day, while she practiced, while she sharpened her blade.

Katarina had explained it to her once, how battle magic and healing magic complemented one another. Though magic might work with the powers of nature, it was not essentially _natural_. And the unspeakable holy magic that Lady Elice could access, it seemed, acted in the same way. It was, in a sense, easier to make a body from a handful of ashes than it was to use healing magic to bring down a fever. More possible, anyway.

By Midsummer's Eve, it was quite clear to Chris what must be done. Her king needed it; the entire _world_ needed it, and none other would commit such an deed. She resolved to move on it- that very night, the night of the Midsummer's Ball. It was supposed to be a happy night, after all... the night before the sun's finest dawn.

-x-

The ball gave Chris some time to reflect. She stood, as ever, at the edge of the crowd, just watching the crush of people come to celebrate in the palace. She heard accents from every corner of the continent, from the clipped speech of Grust to the lilting voices of Talys, all of them come to pay tribute to the hero that had united them. She saw familiar and well-loved faces, from Lady Elice to fellow veterans of the great wars. She watched the royal children, aged nine and six, dart through the crowd; Chris smiled briefly at the scattering of flower petals left in their wake. And she watched her lord, who with his queen reigned over the celebration from their place on the dais.

Until he grew tired. And Chris, who had been waiting for that moment, stepped forward to arrange for the most graceful exit possible. The queen remained where she was, putting on a smile to keep her subjects entertained, while Chris escorted the king out of the ballroom... and to the foot of the staircase.

"Let's go a different way, sire."

She guided him down a less-public corridor, to a small room whose windows opened to the jasmine-scented gardens. King Marth placed his hands upon the windowsill and looked out into the night. The long midsummer twilight had finally faded to black.

"Don't you feel, Chris, that sometimes there aren't enough hours in the day?"

Chris wasn't meant to answer the question, so she didn't. She watched him a few moments longer, noticing the shadows under his eyes and the hollows at his cheekbones. "The face that won the war," Katarina had said of him, so long before, back when he was Altea's prince, perfect and shining. Back before the entire world had a claim to him. She let her hand rest upon his shoulder; it was not the first time she'd done so, and this time Chris could feel the sharp bones beneath the velvet of his tunic.

"Don't worry," she told him. "Everything will be fine."

An unexpected blow from a very sharp blade did not always hurt, and Chris hoped such was the case now as she struck. She drove in her sword until the hilt was pressed against her lord's back. But that was only half the job; a man could live a while with a knife in him, and Chris made sure to twist the blade as she pulled it out. All the while, she kept a grip on the king's shoulder, easing the fall as he went down upon his knees.

He did not shout, nor call for anyone, though his face had already gone as pale as milk.

"Why?"

"To save you," she said only.

It was over quickly, for Chris knew well her business. She sat with him, mindful of the spreading blood, until the shocked look faded from his eyes. Then she lay her sword on the carpet alongside the body and went to get help.

"Go and summon Lady Elice and bring her back here," she said to a page who loitered out in the hall, oblivious as to what had just happened. "Tell her the king requires her at once."

The page dashed off, anxious to heed the word of the king as transmitted by the great Dame Chris of Sera. Chris returned to stand over her lord, rocking back and forth on her heels as the minutes passed. They would hang her, or burn her, or have a squadron of archers take her down. At best, they would lock her up for life as a madwoman, and Chris would go without complaint. She had done what was necessary... what was required of her. Lady Elice could now use her holy gift to fashion a new and perfect body for their king, and the shining age of unification would go on and on, uninterrupted.

Such was the final service of the Hero of Shadow. She was smiling when they found her.

**The End. **

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> This incorporates a lot of magic meta that can be found at my journal; I find it likely that the Aum spell creates an entirely new body for whoever it is being resurrected, rather like what Brammimond does with a certain someone at the end of FE7. But, to all appeareances, resurrection magic only works _correctly_ on someone who met a death through unnatural means... just as healing staves in general work on battle wounds but not illnesses or the 'natural' injuries of childbirth. Odd stuff, magic.

This is kind of a sequel to "Expiation," which deals with Katarina's disappearance.


End file.
